Close Quarters
by Bellabrew
Summary: An AU story focusing on how TPTB could resolve the situation created in the season finale with Sara's disappearance. Is GSR, but not CD
1. The Nightmare Begins

AN: This is an AU story looking at one possible way TPTB could start season 8. It may be a fairly dark story, but will not be CD.

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The Nightmare begins

"As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape." - John Lancaster Spalding

* * *

In the silent darkness she was surrounded by pieces of her oldest nightmare. The smell of death surrounded her, but underneath it she could detect the subtle notes of blood, gin and gardenia that she associated with her mother and the night that had altered her life forever. 

_The radio was playing softly in the background, as Momma sang and they danced around the kitchen. Sara wished it could always be this way, but knew it wouldn't last, by the time her father got home her mother would have finished the Long Island Iced Teas she sipped during the day and gotten the before dinner Martinis ready. _

_On a very good night, the drinks mellowed her parents and in soft tones they'd talk about their day. Momma sharing an anecdote about an interesting guest, Daddy talking the case he was working on and then he would ask Sara what she'd learned in school. Very good days didn't happen very often. Most days were filled with yelling and hitting and on bad nights she'd sit with Momma in the emergency room waiting for the Doctor._

_Of all the bad nights she'd lived through, this one was the worst. She'd set the table while Momma made the drinks and then together they sat at the table waiting for Daddy, but he was late. So late that the roast and mashed potatoes dried out, but her mother refused to serve dinner until her husband got home._

_Lying in the dark Sara tried to ignore when her stomach growled. Even though it was hours past her bedtime she was too hungry to sleep and decided to risk a trip to the kitchen to make a ham and cheese sandwich. Stopping on the stair she listened carefully knowing that if she was caught out of bed the penalty would be severe. _

_Last time she'd been spanked the welts had made it difficult to sit for days afterward and Mrs. Leary disciplined her for squirming in class. Unconsciously the hand on the banister gripped harder as the other moved to protect her bottom. _

_Listening to the creak of the wooden rocking chair, Sara bit her lip and considered going back to bed; the sounds made it clear, her mother was still furious and since she'd sent Sara to bed had probably only moved to mix another Gin and Tonic. Frozen on the stair Sara still hadn't decided what to do when the front door open and closed loudly. _

"_You're late. Who was she?" Her mother slurred as the rocking stopped and she crossed the room to demand an answer. The first loud slap against bare flesh was followed by a feminine whimper; Sara quickly retreated back up the stairs as survival instinct took over._

_Lying in her bed Sara pretended to sleep in case someone came in. She listened as the yelling moved into the kitchen. There was a pattern to their fighting as they moved through the house and she knew the fight would wind down when they reached their bedroom. Only then would it be safe for Sara to get up and try for the kitchen again. _

_When the bedroom door closed she didn't hear the sounds she expected, instead the fight continued. The yelling suddenly stopped and her breathing was loud in the silence. Then her door opened, light filled her room as her mother came closer Sara was frightened by the overwhelming copper scent of fresh blood that smothered her mother's familiar scent of the juniper berries from the gin and her gardenia perfume and knew something terrible had happened._

Opening her eyes Sara tried to control her stomach; there was no room for her to get sick. She could only move about an inch in any direction. There was barely enough room for shallow breathing. Drawing a breath through her nose she smiled trying to suppress her gag reflex. To occupy her mind she studied her cage, she was trapped by the twisted metal of a car. Blinking quickly she tried to remember what had happened to her, but the last thing she could remember was patting Bruno on the head before locking the front door.

As her fingers flexed in the mud, a sob escaped from the back of her throat. Panic set in as she remembered how they'd been minutes away from losing Nick. Unable to do anything more than watch as he raised the gun to his temple, or when the ants swarmed, eating him alive and then Hodges' call alerting them to the explosives.

Grissom was expecting her to be late since she'd been in court all day and since she hadn't called before leaving did they even know she was missing?


	2. Divide The Burden

**Divide the burden**

"Teams share the burden and divide the grief." - Doug Smith

Catherine wanted to be understanding, but Gil had just walked away leaving his team to cope with his quiet admission. Looking around the table, she saw the impact his words had on the faces of her colleagues. As she met each eye she noticed that the initial devastation of Sara's loss and surprise at Grissom's statement were slowly being replaced by resolve and determination.

Her need to find Sara seemed stronger this time than when Nicky was in danger. Absently she wondered if it was not having proof of life or if the increase was because of Gil. He'd finally lifted his head and revealed he had a heart after all. They needed to find Sara for him.

As she watched the team closely it seemed like after those first moments of stunned silence, they all reached the same conclusion and an unspoken understanding. Nothing was more important than finding Sara alive, they would do whatever it took to bring her home and that failure was not an option.

She wished she could give them all the time they needed, but even without the digital counter they had with Nick she felt the minutes quickly slipping away taking Sara with them. "I'm sorry guys but we still have the miniature and two crime scenes to process." She paused giving them a chance to switch back to professional mode. "I'll call Ecklie on the way to P.D. to interview the suspect so he can call all hands. But someone needs to join Sofia Natalie's apartment, review the video tapes Brass got from the parking garage and auto should have her car here soon."

Warrick glanced at the clock, "Dispatch only buffers a couple hours so we'll want to move quick and see if we can trace a car leaving the garage."

"Archie and I will do that." Greg volunteered not feeling up to processing Sara's car or seeing the home of the psychopath that had taken his mentor and friend.

Catching Nick's eye Warrick tried to gauge his friend's state of mind suspecting that Sara's abduction might trigger memories and feelings of his own. "I'll take the apartment." He offered, noticing how Nick released his breath with a small nod.

"Right. I'll collect trace from the miniature for Hodges before heading to the garage." With effort he released the white knuckle grip he had on the lab table. It was too easy to imagine Sara's predicament he still had nightmares of being trapped alone in the dark, just praying to be rescued. Taking a deep breath he focused on the miniature scene, Sara needed him to focus and do his job, like she had when he was missing.

Catherine felt pride watching her guys smoothly divide up the tasks with little direction from her. They were a good team made of smart and talented people, now wasn't the time, but she made a mental note to let them each know that. When Lindsay was missing she'd felt better knowing that if there was evidence, they would find it and chase every lead. As she walked out the door, she didn't look back knowing Sara's case was in good hands and wondered if Gil felt the same way.

She stopped as she realized she was walking by small office where Sara had found her that first day. "Two sharp women are better than one." Catherine whispered, quietly echoing Sara's words of that long ago first meeting. Catherine closed her eyes remembering the pretty, young brilliant CSI that Grissom described as a trusted friend. Silently she prayed for Sara's safe return and a chance to say some of the things she'd left unsaid for too long.

Pushing the send button on her cell, she waited for Conrad to answer. Tonight she'd call in favors and play her best political game, whatever it took to get the help they needed. Grissom had protected, supported, or rescued them all over the years and now it was time to repay the favor. "Conrad, its Catherine. Something terrible has happened."

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AN: I realize these chapters have been short, but please bear with me, as we get further into the story the chapters should get longer. 


	3. The Abyss

**AN: **As promised this chapter is longer than the previous two at 1259 words. I would like to thank everyone who has joined me on this journey and all those who reviewed I value your comments and input. Also a special thank you to my beta Daphne for giving me her invaluable input and reviews, I am grateful for you everyday; without you GSRDrabbles wouldn't exist and your prodding pushes me to tell better stories.

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**The Abyss**

_"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." --Friedrich Nietzsche  
_

The waif-like blonde in the interrogation room didn't look like a killer, but the replicas of her deeds sat in his office, gruesome proof of what she was. Unbidden the quote came to his mind, 'There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them.' Only he hadn't feared this one until it was too late._  
_

_Too late._ Those words haunted him, part of a single phrase that had been repeating in his mind over and over again since he'd been unable to reach Sara by phone. Sure they'd caught Natalie Davis, but it was too little, too late. Her terrible plan of revenge had already been set in motion; Sara had already been abducted and she might be hurt or already dead. He shook his head, dismissing the notion from his mind, Sara was a survivor and in his heart he knew she was alive._  
_

Taking a deep breath Grissom's mind raced as he tried to figure out how he could get Natalie to talk. As tempting as Brass' suggestion was, he was certain that adding bleach into the situation would only make matters worse. He needed to make a personal connection with Natalie to get her talking. Considering her childhood, he knew she'd want to be understood, admired and valued. His stomach churned at the thought of being charming and appreciative to that monster, but he needed to do it for Sara. _  
_

Closing his eyes he began constructing the wall around his heart and the mask he would wear while talking to her. It was then that the taunting questions Walter Gordon had asked two years ago about Nick surfaced; only it was Sara's name that echoed in his head. _  
_

"What does Sara Sidle mean to you? How do you feel, knowing that there's nothing you can do to get her out of that hell?" The voice of a dead man taunted. "Helpless ... useless ... impotent?" Sara needed him in a way she'd never need him before and he was determined to be the opposite of what Gordon had suggested; he'd be strong, working, and functional for as long as it took to find her. _  
_

He banished the memory of the killer from his mind by remembering how he'd reached out to mirror Nick's palm against the glass. Nick had come back to them, and he had to believe Sara would too. So when he stepped into the interview room his entire focus was on the task at hand: winning Natalie's trust. Finding Sara was all that was all that mattered to him; getting a confession and building a case against the serial killer was secondary. _  
_

"Hi Natalie, my name is Gil." He hated the soothing, seductive tone of his voice as he praised her creativity, youth, beauty and passion. He could see the effect his words had on the girl, she was pleased, but it felt like he was betraying Sara. _  
_

Pulling a chair out, he sat down across from her. He was startled by the emptiness in her eyes as a sinking feeling pervaded his gut; he realized she wasn't going to tell him anything he didn't already know. From experience he knew it would take time to gain her trust, time he didn't have. This needed to go faster; Sara was alone in the cold and dark, underneath a car that might be slowly killing her. So he spoke his worst fear hoping to goad her into some kind of response. "And then the way you killed Sara."_  
_

"I didn't kill her." _  
_

Gil's heart leapt at the girl's soft spoken admission. It wasn't until he'd heard those words that he knew how much he needed that validation to know that Sara was alive. "You didn't?" _  
_

"This is about her. Her! Her! It's always about her!" _  
_

"No it isn't," he said hoping to calm her down. He realized too late that his fragile emotional control had slipped, and she had seen the flare of hope in his blue eyes and heard the relief in his voice. She wouldn't trust him now; so he begged. "Natalie, listen to me. Tell me where she is. Natalie... Please tell me where Sara is." _  
_

The information he needed was locked away in the insane mind of a psychopath. His desperation was growing as the girl began to drift away into her own world. It was maddening being so close to the solution, knowing that with the right key he could reach in and get the information to save Sara. His hands clenched painfully Sara could be dying and the one person who could save her was quietly singing a song about having a pain in the sawdust. _  
_

Each word of the song eroded away more of his emotional control. Unleashing the rage boiling just beneath the surface, he allowed it to combine with his desire to make her pay for hurting Sara, and the desperate need for his lover's safe return. For the first time in his life he wanted to hit a woman. Shaking her roughly, he yelled. "STOP IT! Just stop this! Tell me where Sara is!" _  
_

This was a line he swore he'd never cross and he pulled back, knowing how close he'd come to striking a suspect. Perhaps decades of staring into the abyss of evil had created a dark place within him waiting to be unleashed. Rubbing his hand over his face he struggled to regain control. _  
_

He seized on a memory of Sara to help him walk away from the psychotic woman. _  
_

_Cuddling on the bed as the television flickered in the darkness, he haltingly shared the events of the Zoe Kessler case with her, trying to reconcile the Heather he'd known with the actions of a grief stricken mother. Her behavior had disturbed him on many levels. The idea that she could have sex with the man that murdered her daughter, knowingly interfere with the criminal investigation and then take justice in her own hands had disgusted him.__  
_

"_When she said the rage was stronger than the repulsion and then handed me the condom. I should have known something would happen."__  
_

"_You're too hard on yourself. You got there in time to keep her from becoming a murderer." With two fingers she traced the letters on his alma mater sweatshirt; Sara's touch was as comforting as her words.  
_

"_Cath said she understood killing the guy, but not sleeping with him." He hadn't been surprised by his friend's answer, but was torn between wanting Sara's opinion and fear that her answer would only prove that he didn't understand Sara as well as he thought.  
_

_With her hands framing his face she brought his face closer allowing her lips to brush against his. "What is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil."  
_

"_Nietzsche." Her nod affirmed he'd identified it correctly. Looking into her eyes he realized that the quote was neither an evasion nor an answer to his question, instead she'd given him the solace he desperately needed; proof that she knew him and loved him without judgment.  
_

Turning away from Natalie, he left the room. Vaguely noticing Catherine and Brass had been observing before leaning against the closed Interrogation Room door. He could almost feel Sara's hands still cupping his face and the lingering memory of her kiss. "We have to find her because I'm not ready to say goodbye."_  
_


	4. Risk

**Disclaimer: **I wish they were mine, because we'd get more GSR and less Cath angst, but alas they are not!

"Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it...It really is worth fighting for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk everything, you risk even more." - Erica Jong

He heard the rapping of Catherine's heels against the tile floor long before he saw her, but remained focused on what was happening in the Interrogation Room. It was beyond stupid to let Sara's lover get close to Natalie especially with intense distant look in his eyes; it was the same look he'd had after seeing the artfully posed brunette on the black and white tile. But there wasn't any choice; Grissom was the one most likely to get her to talk and maybe reveal Sara's location. Over and over throughout the years he'd been amazed at Gil's skill in getting suspects to talk, eventually getting confessions and vital information that closed the case. .

"How's it going?" Catherine asked as she joined him.

Brass shrugged not wanting to inadvertently share his concerns about what might happen in the Interrogation Room; unsure whether to be more concerned that Gil would lose control or that he wouldn't.

"He told us Sara was the only woman he ever loved."

Nodding, he didn't bother gloating about how long he'd known that Grissom had finally found happiness with Sara. At this point it no longer mattered, but Brass felt comforted by the disclosure to the team nonetheless.

"He's going to need us Cath." Jim observed quietly. "You remember how he lost it with the Debbie Marlin case, that nurse who just looked like her."

Catherine didn't speak, but he noticed she tensed and wondered if she was remembering how they'd watched helplessly as Gil worked three shifts straight without break. Studying her closely he reminded himself she hadn't been there when Gil finally broke down. The confession that had come out of the Interrogation Room wasn't the one Brass had hoped for when they entered, but listening as Grissom correlated his feelings to the murderous surgeon's had been enlightening.

"She offers us a new life with her ... we have to risk everything we've worked for in order to have her. I couldn't do it." Gil's haunting confession from that day echoed in Brass' head.

_But you finally did risk everything and were happy_, Brass thought watching as Gil's carefully constructed façade of professionalism began to falter and then fail altogether as he shook Natalie.

Catherine moved, she wanted to help, but Brass blocked her path preventing her from entering the room.

"Brass." She tried to force her way past him

"He needs to do this." It was difficult to watch Grissom battling his demons. Brass remembered his own battle after hitting bottom only to realize that there hadn't been any answers in the bottle after all. Now it was Grissom's turn as the last of the emotional barriers he'd hidden behind for years crumbled. Hiding his emotions hadn't made the man feel less, only kept others from seeing it.

The waiting was torture, he wanted to go and help Gil as much as Catherine did. _Another minute_, he promised himself then they could go in.

Finally Gil moved towards the door and it seemed like he had aged a dozen years in the few minutes that had passed. He waited to move until Gil was leaning against the closed door rubbing his eyes.

"We have to find her because I'm not ready to say goodbye." He murmured more to himself than them.

After several deep breaths Gil opened his eyes and Brass noticed that while the intensity remained the distance was gone, replaced by determination. _Welcome back to humanity_. Brass thought, but remained silent.

"We will." Catherine promised.

"She didn't tell me anything." Gil pulled out his cell phone, turning the device over in his hands a few time before flipping it open.

It was obvious Gil was feeling discouraged at his lack of success, though Brass doubted anyone would have faired better. "She told you that she didn't kill Sara." He reminded them as he pulled out his own cell. "I'll call the county head shrinker maybe he can give her something that will help us get through to her."

"And the guys are looking for clues; even Ecklie's already contacted the Sheriff, so we're getting everybody in to help." Catherine updated them without going into specifics.

Grissom nodded absently, not stopping as he continued scrolling through a list of phone numbers on his cell. From the corner of his eye he saw Catherine throw Brass a questioning look and Jim's answering shrug indicating he didn't know what Gil was up to either.

Gil wasn't up to explaining; instead he pushed the send button knowing they'd have more questions after over hearing this conversation, but he couldn't think about that now. Instead he ignored them, listening as the other line rang twice before a husky voice answered, freeing his own voice to speak. "Gideon, its Gil Grissom I need your help."


	5. Pain

AN: My sincere gratitude goes out to my beta for reading through the initial draft of this chapter -though this version is unbetaed and all mistakes are my own- and to the readers who have reviewed and inquired about updates. I apologize for the delay in updating, but real life threw me for a loop. As always I don't own CSI or its characters, this is just my humble attempt to provide an alternate version based on my imaginings.

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Pain

"Loving is a feeling that brings both joy and pain to my heart. Joy from being with you, being filled with an emotion so deep and tender that no other feeling can compare. Pain from knowing that I'm so in love, that I'm more vulnerable than ever." --Unknown

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"I know you have questions, but can they wait a few minutes?" Grissom asked trying to clip his cell phone back onto his belt as they entered Jim's office.

Looking over her shoulder Catherine caught Jim's slight shrug as he closed the door and headed for his leather office chair.

"We can wait." She agreed setting a steaming coffee cup in front of Gil. Blowing softly she cooled her own coffee, watching as Jim kept toying with his keys and staring at his own mug as if contemplating adding a shot of something stronger from the locked bottom drawer.

The warm burn of alcohol might drive the chill away, but it wouldn't help Sara. He gave a subtle shake of his head before pocketing his keys and taking a sip. Jim was so focused on battling his demons, that he was startled when his speaker phone buzzed to life, but managed not to spill the coffee. Counting the beeps he noticed Gil dialing a local number and wondered who he was calling.

"'Eello." The answering male voice was deep and vaguely familiar.

"Sheriff, its Gil Grissom. Sir, I've got you on speaker phone. Catherine Willows and Jim Brass are with me too."

"Ecklie and McKeen told me what happened to your CSI. I've already authorized the use of whatever resources are needed to find Ms. Sidle. "

"Thank you. I appreciate that, but." Grissom paused breathing deeply before continuing. "I'd also like you to authorize calling in the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit too. They could provide valuable insight into the suspect and where she might have taken Sara."

"Really. I was told you didn't like working with the Feds. Captain Brass do you agree with Grissom's assessment?"

Gil's blue eyes silently pleaded for Jim's support. Given Grissom's history with the Bureau this request was unexpected, but smart they couldn't ignore any resource that could bring Sara home.

"Yes, Sir I do."

"Alright. I'll extend the invitation, but they might not accept." The Sheriff warned as he ended the call.

"They will." Grissom responded with conviction in the sudden silence. "My first call was to Jason Gideon the BAU's senior profiler and an old friend. He's getting things started on their end so they should be here in a few hours."

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Jason had hung up the phone, but hadn't turned on the light yet. In the darkness it was easier to pretend that the last few days hadn't happened, but delaying the inevitable wouldn't help anyone. He exhaled harshly before he switched on the bedside lamp blinking in the sudden bright light that reflected off the highly polished brass lamp, a reminder that he was at a hotel because his home was still a crime scene.

Closing his eyes he fought the memory of walking into his bedroom. Seeing Sarah lying on his bed her dark straight hair framing a too pale face and brown eyes frozen open in horror. Her blood coated his hands as he desperately searched for a pulse. He'd been late for their date and while he decided between what flowers to buy she'd been murdered by a psychopathic serial killer.

Refusing to let Frank win, Gideon grabbed the plain black leather book from the nightstand. Frank may have taken her life, but Gideon wouldn't let him taint the memory of all that was good about her life. Opening his eyes he flipped through the journal stopping at her photograph. His thumb caressed the image helping him remember. Sarah was compassionate, intelligent, beautiful, and understanding. She would have taken the bouquet, buried her nose to inhale the fragrance and instantly forgiven him for getting caught up in work again. With a sigh he set the book aside to pick up his phone; there was another serial killer and another Sara.

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Leaning against the building hands shoved into his leather jacket Jason watching as the team gathered on the tarmac while the pilot finished readying the jet for take-off. He hadn't seen the team since Frank and his girlfriend had stepped in front a train at Grand Central Station. They all looked the same and he dreaded joining them; they would see the bags that hadn't been under his eyes last week, they would realize that nightmares probably haunted his sleep and wonder if he could still handle the job.

A tall dark head separated from the group, Jason watched as Aaron Hotchner crossed the tarmac carrying two cups only to hand one over after positioning himself next to Jason. As they sipped the coffee Gideon felt the younger man's dark eyes scrutinizing him. As the Special Agent in Charge it was Hotch's job to decide if Jason could return.

"Dr. Grissom has quite a rep for not wanting to work with the FBI." Hotch pointed out.

Jason nodded, but also heard the unspoken questions behind it. Aaron wanted to know why Grissom called Gideon, why Jason was interested and what was important enough to circumvent case approval procedure.

"It's not common knowledge, but he was part of the Lloyd Cartwright case."

"That case is required reading at the Academy now."

Gideon nodded; grateful he didn't have to explain why the Twin Cities Slasher was an example of just how bad decoy operations could go. How Cartwright had waited until the female CSI was no longer under the protection of the Feds to strike.

"Is that when you met him?"

"No we'd met before that." Jason smiled wistfully. "We were seated next to each other at a Cubs-Sox exhibition game and got to talking."

"So you kept in touch."

"Between on-going chess games and cases we've talked pretty regularly over the years. A lot more often since he started getting these miniatures of crime scenes." Jason handed over the file he'd brought with him watching as the younger man flipped through the photographs for a minute before continuing. "Miniatures made in advance and left at the crime scene."

"This detail is amazing. But why call us in now?"

"Tonight they arrested a woman for the murders."

"Female serial killers are very rare."

"Yes and unfortunately this one abducted a CSI and left a miniature in Gil's office of a desert crime scene before they caught her." Gideon paused at Hotch's sharply in drawn breath. "He's already tried questioning her, but is hoping we'll have more success or can offer new leads after profiling Natalie."

Aaron Hotchner nodded he could empathize with Grissom, a man whose reputation suggested he was willing to do anything to bring a member of his team home. Both men sipped their coffee silently remembering their own hellish hours between Spencer Reid, their youngest team member's abduction by a serial killer and his rescue.

"Its time to go." Aaron pointed out as the pilot gave the ready signal. "We should be in Vegas before dawn."

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Sara realized the storm was moving on as the breeze carried away the lingering traces of Gardenia perfume and the downpour eased to a gentle rain. She was surrounded by the smell of wet earth. Above her the rain drops bounced off metal sounding like a tinkling music box. She hadn't really listened to the rain since the night after rescuing Nick.

_The SUV was suddenly silent as Greg watched the first rain drop fall on the windshield and trickle down the glass. "That would have made getting him out harder." His voice was raspy and from the corner of her eye she noticed his grim expression. Gone was the guy who'd talked non-stop since leaving the Nursery._

_She'd noticed and understood why he'd avoided talking about how close they'd come to losing Grissom and Nick. Yet as he began nervously wringing his hands she knew Greg was thinking about the 'what ifs.' What if Nick had shot himself instead of the light? What if Grissom hadn't identified the ants or if Kelly hadn't mentioned the Nursery would they have gotten there in time? _

"_How bout I drop you here?" She asked hoping that seeing the team alive and happy would help with the what- ifs. "I'll park the car and find you in a few minutes." _

"_Sure." He replied as he released his seatbelt and pulled on the door handle as the Denali slowed to a stop at the Hospital's entrance. Waiting until he was inside before pulling away. _

_She was looking forward to seeing Nick, but was already dreading the nightmares she knew were coming, a frightening blend of memories, fears and what-ifs. What if Grissom had been two feet closer when the bomb exploded or if Hodges hadn't been able to warn them about the explosives? _

_After driving down three aisles she realized that the only available parking spots were at the end. Pulling into a spot near a street lamp she turned off the SUV, but instead of rushing towards the hospital she just sat and listened to the pinging of rain drops hitting the roof. _

_It felt like a life time ago since she'd listened to the rain, but was really just the winter before she'd come to Vegas; curled on her couch with the phone listening to Grissom talk about some book he'd read while the rain bounced off the loft's metal roof._

_She missed that closeness, the huge long distance phone bills and those marathon conversations. It used to be they rarely spoke about work or cases, but now days that seemed like the only time they spoke. Was the professional development and experience she'd gotten worth the loss of that friendship? Even after years of reflection she still didn't have an answer._

_Stepping out of the Denali, she tipped her head back to feel the rain on her face. During the search for Nick her emotions had been held in check, but there was no holding them back now as tears mingled with the rain streaming down her cheeks. She heard footsteps approaching and nearly brushed the tears away. _

"_Greg said you were out here." _

_She privately cursed fate; he was the last person in Vegas she wanted seeing her upset again. Squeezing her eyes tighter she tried to regain control and put her professional mask back on, but the tears flowed faster. _

"_Sara?" There was concern in his voice as he repeated her name before his warm hand engulfed her upper arm turning her to face him. _

_She kept her eyes closed as his slightly roughened fingertips brushed her check. "Its okay, Honey. Please don't cry." _

_She shook her head because this wasn't even close to okay; he'd nearly died. Quiet sobs escaped as she remembered the terror hearing Brass call in the explosion and request paramedics. That was followed by intense relief when she saw Grissom arguing with the paramedic, refusing to go to the hospital. _

_Dropping his hands, she expected him to take a step back, but instead he wrapped his arms around her to pull her even closer. She let out a shuddering sigh as both rain and tears were forgotten within his comforting embrace. This is what she'd wanted him to do after being told about her parents and after watching Adam attack her at the asylum. _

"_Honey please don't cry." He whispered repeatedly while brushing feather soft kisses on her forehead, cheeks and eyelids. Their lips brushed and she opened her eyes to watch knowing that if he pulled away this time it really would be too late. _

_Pulling her closer, he lifted his hands to frame her face and gently pushed wet tendrils out of her eyes. She stared deeply into his eyes; she'd never seen them_ _so blue; it was like staring at the Pacific Ocean on a perfect summer day. Tipping his head he captured her lips, in a slow, sweet, perfect first kiss. _

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"Oh Sara." He uttered to the empty room, tracking a rain drop trickling down the glass, remembering another rainy night; the night he stopped running from Sara and changed his life with a single kiss unleashing feelings which could no longer be denied. That night he'd taken her home, they slept together and when the nightmares came they had each other. After an entire weekend devoted to talking, healing and sharing they'd come to a new understanding and for two years they were happy.

_Were?_ He slammed his fist into the glass, the pain a punishment for thinking of Sara in the past tense and a reminder to not doubt again. He was glad the others weren't there to witness it, they were busy enough without babysitting him. Jim was coordinating with his detectives and Catherine was checking on the team's progress. With each painful throb in his hand he reminded himself "We _are_happy."

"_Hello Gilbert." _

_He could hear her smile through the cell phone and smiled back. For the first time in his life he enjoyed hearing his given name, loved how Sara made two syllables convey exactly what she was thinking. Tonight they translated as 'I love you, miss you and can't wait to see you.' He hoped that sharing the new leads on the miniature killer would make up for his coming to work early and leaving her to wake up alone. _

"_I'll see you in a few." She promised before they disconnected, b_ut he'd discovered the miniature sitting on his desk too late to prevent her abduction.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he was surprised when his mother's rosary tangled with his fingers. Pulling it out he studied it, he didn't recall pulling it out of his desk. Rubbing his thumb along the silver beads he found the tangible reminder of faith comforted him. Only months ago he'd shown them to Sara as part of a case. They'd begun a discussion about faith and belief, but hadn't finished it. It was only one of the many things he had left unsaid and closing his eyes he prayed. "Please don't take her away from me; there is still so much I need to tell her."


End file.
